


Your Hand in Mine

by southerndrawlinmypants



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1780639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southerndrawlinmypants/pseuds/southerndrawlinmypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during Sacrifice of Angels if Ziyal/Jake had interacted and became a couple. Jake finds Ziyal's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Hand in Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Once again thanks to onetobeamup. I love this pairing and I wish it was filled with sweet things but life is cruel.

They did it. He stared in disbelief as the Cardassians and Jem Hadar fled, almost falling to the ground as a panicked officer ran into his shoulder in his haste. He stumbled and turned himself around, chuckling as the man tripped over several other objects on his way to the shuttles. He cupped his hands over his mouth.

“Yeah! You better run!”

Not his most original words but it had the same satisfaction as any well calculated taunt and he couldn't contain his grin. Soon his old friends would be back, no more distrusting stares and the dull thud of the boots of men who would gladly see his father dead. Dad. He'd see his dad again!

The promenade was almost empty and the station had stopped shaking. The federation ships must be close to docking. He broke out into a run, the now bright future racing through his mind.

Nog and his dad would be back, Quarks would be bright and alive again, Ziyal would have time to talk to him again-

Ziyal.

He stopped running.

What if she decided to leave with her dad?

“Ziyal!” He shouted into the empty air.

He kept shouting as he ran. If she had decided to leave she'd be gone already and his words would mean nothing, but he had to try. If she'd decided to stay on the station then it would be a happy reunion after months of being separated. 

When Dukat had called Ziyal back to the station after the take over had seemed to be stable he had been overjoyed. He had stayed for her, he'd realised one lonely afternoon. It had taken one rejected article after another from Weyoun for him to realise it, because his situation had never filled him with the hopelessness that he saw in the other's eyes. Rom. Major Kira. When his words fell on deaf ears, the sight of her across the bar filled him with more warmth than a entire bottle of spring wine could provide. 

Jake could hear the whoops and laughter of starfleet personnel from somewhere nearby and chose a different direction. He jogged through the corridor near Ziyal's quarters and the sound of distraught mumbling grew louder and louder the closer he came. His heart thudded in his chest as he rounded the corner. Time stopped as he took in the figure of Gul Dukat bent over a body and sobbing. 

“I'm sorry...I forgive you...”

The sound of agony ripped through Jake's throat and he stormed forward, the soft features of his girlfriend becoming clearer. Through tears and hysterical shrieking he kicked the man away from her with ease, Dukat being too disorientated and grief stricken to take much notice. Jake huffed as he pulled Ziyal up off of the floor in his arms and half into his lap, being careful to support her head. Her long ponytail tickled his arm. He gripped her tight and put his head to hers, listening for any sign of life. There was none, only the hard hammering of his own heart and the mumbled ramblings of the mad man behind him who had crawled to support himself against a wall. 

“No...”

He hiccuped and tried to clear his throat. He shook her slightly, like one would try to wake a sleeping baby.

“Ziyal...Ziyal you said we'd go to the temple together.”

There was no response. Her eyes remained closed and chest still. 

He pulled her closer into his lap.

He let out a wet chuckle.

“You were going to paint the structures, I-I was going to write about the temple. Remember?”

He could feel the hot tears gathering at his chin, and dripping onto his shirt. He put one arm around her waist.

“You yelled at me for trying to make up a cool background story for the temple to make it more interesting. Remember? If you don't wake up I'm going to go without you and it wont be as fun...”

Gunk clung to the inside of his throat and he tried to clear it.

“Please!”

His hand tightened at her waist and he heard the crinkle of paper. His mind cleared. With pure power of will he steadied the arm supporting her neck and reached into her pocket. Familiar notepad paper caught his eye and he held his breath. He smoothed it down and recognised his own handwriting. He laughed, then looked down to her.

“I didn't even come up with this one.” 

When Ziyal had came back to the station it had been a wonderful few days. Dukat seemed eager to keep Ziyal happy now that they were finally able to spend time together, but as the battle between the Cardassians and the Federation became more violent and aggressive he found himself being turned away at the door and discouraged from approaching her on the promenade. No threats were issued but the hard stare of Dukat's closest associates burned and made him sweat. Their art sessions and long lunches became chaste kisses and knowing looks all over the course of a few weeks. 

It had been a particularly gruelling week when he had given her that poem. He had taken to carrying scraps of paper and a pencil in his pocket for opportunities such as this, the old fashioned method harder to track and quite romantic in his own opinion. He had stood at the bar, trapped in a conversation with morn. As he'd brought his second spring wine to his lips Ziyal had walked through the door and his heart soared, only to be shot down as Dukat followed with Damar at his heels. He could have crushed the glass in his hand. Their eyes met across the room and she smiled. It was a wonderful thing. To see her smile. It was so rare. The first time he had seen it in full bloom they had been lazing about in his quarters, and she laughed as he performed a dramatic reading of a one man play he had made for Molly's birthday years previous. 

“I like it when you smile. You don't do it a lot.” 

She'd blushed and fiddled with her paintbrushes, half-heartedly trying to organise them by thickness. 

“I don't really know how to smile.”She'd confided.

Jake stopped laughing and as she chewed her lip he urged her to continue.

“I never really had a lot of experience smiling. I think I look a little silly.”

Jake picked up a paintbrush from the floor and placed it at the end of the tray. She looked up, embarrassed.

“Silly is good.”

His heart had fluttered at the memory and determination set in. He waited for Damar to come to the bar and order the usual for their table. Damar turned to Jake, nodded, and made his way back. Jake tapped Quark on the arm and raised his eyebrows. This had become a regular routine. He hastily scribbled down the first thing that popped into his head and slipped it across the bar along with a few strips of latinum. He took a long drink as Quark slipped the piece of paper under Ziyal's glass and took the tray to their table. Quark gave Ziyal an exaggerated nod of the head. Jake took his cue and sat up to leave. 

At the exit he turned his head, catching her reading it under the table. Her face was contorted in sweet delight as she pursed her lips. She lifted her head to the bar but was disappointed to see he was no longer there. Jake wished to stay longer but feared getting caught and their exchanges would be even more limited than they already were, so he walked the way back to his quarters, wishing for a cool hand in his own.

He was pulled back out of this memory by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He startled and pulled Ziyal closer to his chest.

“Shh...Jake it's me.”

Jake sobbed.

“D-Dad?”

He felt arms surround him from behind and he fell into it. He began to shake and tried to speak but nothing came out. His dad only nodded and buried his head into Jake's shoulder. They rocked together. Jake slipped between sleep and consciousness, aware that the promanade was getting louder and brighter. He tightened his grip on the piece of paper in his hand and repeated the words in his head until he grew still and sleep took him.

Wine comes in at the mouth  
And love comes in at the eye;  
That's all we shall know for truth  
Before we grow old and die.  
I lift the glass to my mouth,  
I look at you, and I sigh.

W.B Yates


End file.
